


On the train

by amiracleforbreakfast



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, F/F, I'm so sorry, Not really though, POV First Person, i suck at this tagging thing, meeting on a train, older! katya, trixie's POV, young! trixie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-11-05 17:48:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17923505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amiracleforbreakfast/pseuds/amiracleforbreakfast
Summary: Trixie is a 20-year-old English student going home to her parents for the summer holidays. On the way, she meets a friendly French teacher with a charming voice. Longing ensues.





	1. The long road home

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> They're lesbians, Harold.  
> Not at all sure when (if, really) I'll get around to writing the next part, so don't expect anything.  
> Also not proof-read, so I'll be more than happy to correct any grammar mistakes, etc.  
> I would really appreciate any feedback, if you have the time :)  
> Thanks in advance!

I was going back home for the summer. It was way too warm outside, and the train was late. That is to say, this trip was off to a great start.

When the train finally came, I got onto the carriage whose number was written on my ticket, and felt instantly relieved when the cool air of the inside came into contact with my overheated skin. The carriage was almost empty; as it usually was. I sat by the window, alone, and braced myself for the two-hour ride. I actually enjoyed such occasions to get some time to spend by myself, dreaming the time away, staring into space, hypnotized by the landscape passing through the window.

That’s why I did not notice straight away that someone had taken place on the seat that was on the other side of the aisle. I was taken aback by the aura that seemed to emanate from her. She was undeniably beautiful, with her sharp features, light eyes and shoulder-length wavy hair. But there was more; she seemed so confident, but also kind – really, an unexplainable feeling was radiating through me just from her being here. I was drawn to her. I wanted to know her. But I was so uninteresting, a 20-year-old English student, going home to a mediocre family. And this was stupid, after all. Just a passing attraction to a complete stranger. I would probably forget about her as soon as our ways would part. Plus, self-confidence had always been a major issue for me; it was not going to change now, upon meeting the most breathtaking woman in the world, would it? So I settled on sleeping through the rest of the ride.

I was already sound asleep when a gentle hand on my shoulder startled me awake.

“Oh my god, did I miss my stop?” I said, already full-on panicking. Only then did I look up, and met an intense blue-green gaze staring right back at me. 

“No, no, don’t worry,” she chuckled. “I only wanted to let you know that the train has stopped in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know what is wrong yet, but the driver said there had been an issue with the engine or something, and we won’t be moving for at least another hour. Sorry for giving you such a scare, I just thought I would let you know.”

“Huh… thanks” I stuttered. 

I wanted to hit myself in the face for not saying anything more, something less stupid maybe. But the beautiful stranger was already gone. I decided to check the doors and see if I could at least go outside for a smoke, as I had nothing to do, no internet connection, and no will to read. You can guess who I saw stand by the door, chatting with an inspector, who was explaining how even he could not get out and how it sucked. I decided not to further embarrass myself, so I did not make any attempt at conversation and went back to my seat.

But fate can only be kept at bay for so long, and the object of my every fantasy was soon back in sight. Fairly certain that I was invisible to her, I could not help stealing glances in her direction. As she did not seem to notice me, I allowed myself to stare for a little while. God, she was gorgeous. With her delicate, sharp features, her silky curls, and the body of a fucking Greek goddess. Her eyes were bright blue, with specks of green and a thin ring of hazel around the pupil; it was quite an ethereal colour, especially compared to my own boring brown gaze. I imagined watching them close as I leaned in to kiss her, how her breathing would speed up, how her thighs would react to the most delicate touch; but I also thought about lying in bed with her, with our limbs intertwined, her saying my name first thing in the morning with a smile on her face. I craved affection, even more than sex – I dreamed of love, really, which was surprising for someone who had never been in any kind of relationship whatsoever. I was in fact a hopeless romantic, even if I did not want to admit it to myself. I took pride in my independence, and here I was. 

Well, I sure could not take pride in my observance at that moment, because I had been staring at her for much more time than what could be considered appropriate, and she had been staring right back with a smirk on her face, for god knows how long. I lowered my gaze, feeling my cheeks burn, hoping that she would drop the subject and let me cringe in peace. Why did I always need to make a fool of myself?

I did not dare to look up, until I heard a now familiar voice, far closer to me than it should have been. 

“Hi again, there” she smiled. “I didn’t quite manage to catch your name just now, but you did seem a little bit slumberous still. I’m Katya, by the way,” she said, holding her hand out.

Taking her hand in mine, I told her my name. In little to no time, I knew that my stop was before hers, and that we lived in the same city during the school year. She taught French at the local university, and she spoke Russian fluently, and knew about many other languages. The topic of our conversation quickly shifted to that interest that we both shared.

I could have listened to her talking for ages. You could hear her smoking in the voice that suited her so well. I was losing myself in the sounds she emitted as well as the actual meaning of the words she used. I myself was at loss for words, too overwhelmed to even form a coherent thought. I just hoped that my internal state was not showing, as I kept staring at her and nodded now and then. There is no use denying it, she was unbelievably attractive, both physically and spiritually. Of course, I found her breathtaking, but I also felt an unexplainable urge to get to know her. I wanted to love her, and to be loved by her. To show her my tenderness as well as my lust.

I was ludicrous, really, half falling in love with someone I had met an hour before. But what can I say, maybe years of closeted loneliness had starved me of romance. 

Soon, too soon, my stop came, and I needed to get off the train. 

“I’m stopping here, but... maybe we could have coffee someday?” I stuttered.

“Sure! I would love that” she smiled.

Before I knew it, I was on the platform, looking at the train speeding away, with a phone number scribbled on my hand.

I remained dumbstruck. It was going to be a long summer. I could not wait to see her again, but at the same time I did not want to be disappointed. I needed to get it together.


	2. Fever dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, a few quick chapters today.  
> I don't feel like this story is going anywhere. I think there won't be many more chapters.

A few days, weeks passed, unhurriedly. Without any relief from the stifling heat, or from my ennui, which was no less heavy. One morning, I woke up in a sweat. Nothing alarming, really, seeing as the weather was so warm. Yet, in the hazy hours of the morning, I struggled to grasp the fleeing feeling of a body against mine. So sensual was that movement of arms and legs against silky skin and sheets…

  
But right at this moment, I was hungry, and one can only be so poetic first thing in the morning. So I let my fantasy slip away, beyond the limits of consciousness, and got up.  
Downstairs, I ate breakfast with my mother, who excitedly told me about the movie she had seen the previous night. I actually enjoyed getting to spend time with her, since I had been away for so long. Truth be told, it was quite a relief for me to fly away from the familial nest. I had gone and studied at a good university, in the big city, and I was really grateful for this opportunity to build something of my own.  
My flat – well, my room, really – was snug and cosy. I had filled it up with books and tchotchke, having tried to keep plants too, but I have always been unable to keep them from dying.

  
That day, I had planned to stay at home, enjoying having nothing to do and spending the day in complete idleness.  
My mother left, and later so did my sister. I had the whole house to myself. I spent my morning reading something my former English teacher had told us about before the holidays. I then slept through the most stifling hours of the day, before settling in the garden when the sun had come back down from its zenith.

  
I was thinking of Katya, and my thumbs hovered for a long time over the screen of my phone, which displayed her name and her number. She did not have my number, or even my full name for that matter, so f I wanted to have a chance to see her again one day, I definitely had to contact her before she forgot who I even was. I decided to send her a text. It had to sound casual – there was no reason, after all, for me to panic. I couldn’t help but think that something was at stake. As long as I did not do anything to approach her, she could remain that unattainable, otherworldly dream-like being. But if –when – I texted her, she would become all too real for my little heart to endure, and so would my risk of being rejected. That single text meant risking it all.

  
I tried to rationalise and tell myself that I didn’t seek anything but friendship, an amicable, platonic relationship based on our common love for languages. But, even then, I feared rejection, all the more so as deep down I knew very well that I wanted more.  
To hell with it. I tapped frantically on the screen of my already overheating phone. Before I had the time to think twice about it, I pressed ‘send’. Then I turned off the screen, and waited.

 

“Hi there, it’s Trixie, the one from the train. Hope you remember me. Anyway, just wanted to ask you if you wanted to meet for coffee someday? Or anything else of course, whatever you prefer. I think I own a book on French literature that might interest you :) A plus tard!  
Trixie.”


	3. A text from a hopeless romantic

The next day, I woke up to a very pleasing breeze coming through the window, which I had left ajar to enjoy the sounds of the rain and the freshness that lingered afterwards. I woke up to a very pleasing text message too; it read:

“Oh hi Trixie, of course I haven’t forgotten you. i might be old and rotten but I still have more than 2 days worth of memory! I would be more than happy to see you again an have a chat with you ;) Meet me at Haught’s Café next Friday at 5?”

Today was only Wednesday; I had nearly two days to prepare for it, and it would have to be enough. I could barely contain my excitement at the thought that Katya had enjoyed my company enough to want to see me again, on her free time.

That morning, I lay on my bed, bathing in the fresh morning air, at once nervous and content. Whenever my thoughts drifted away, my mind could not help but come back to the object of my every desire. I kept picturing her, with her kind yet mischievous gaze and smile, her vaporous hair, her diaphanous skin and her deep voice.  
Quickly, I started imagining what else could come out of such a delicate mouth, how filthy her words could be if she was in my bed. I threw in some French too, because why the fuck not. I was sure she would use each and every one of her linguistic abilities to produce the most erotic sounds in the world. Well, at least I expected nothing less of her, given her self-confident beauty.

I reached my climax all too soon, after getting way too worked up at the imaginary sound of the voice of a woman I had seen an grand total of two hours in my life. Even for me, that was impressively pathetic. But I just couldn’t bring myself to feel guilty about it. She was everything I had ever dreamt of, and now she was within my reach. I was an independent young woman, succeeding at life, and there was no reason for her to see me as anything else than that. Plus, she didn’t know anything about my experience with women, or lack of thereupon.

Was I hoping for too much? Definitely. Did I care, right at that moment? Absolutely not.


	4. A date ?

I was sitting at a table in the small cafe Katya sent me the address of. I have to admit, I had spent way too much time getting ready for that night. Because I wanted to look nice. But not too nice, I didn't want it to be too obvious that I found her so attractive. So I went for quite a casual outfit. 

She arrived 10 minutes after I did, but it was me who had come early. We ordered our drinks and quickly settled into a comfortable discussion about our everyday lives, my original plan to stick to literature to avoid embarrassing myself quickly fading away in the background of my mind.  
The tingling apprehension that had filled me until her arrival had now subsided into a pleasing, buzzing sensation of warmth. At the risk of sounding conventional, I’d say that everything was perfect. The place was really nice, and the drinks were good. But most of all the company was phenomenal. God, that woman.   
She was bright as the fucking sun. I couldn’t even begin to grasp a single reason as to why she would like being with me.

As I told her about some funny -though a little embarrassing anecdote- about how I had fell down the stairs running late for class a few months back, she burst out laughing, her perfect white teeth showing and the corners of her eyes crinkling.   
It was unlike me to be confident enough to tell embarrassing things about myself. But somehow she made me feel so very at ease. So I opened up. She made it easy because she told me about herself, too. I asked her how she came to be a teacher, but then the conversation grew more personal. 

The table we sat at was narrow and our knees were not far apart. It all felt very intimate.   
We seemed to share the same humour as well, and I managed to make her laugh multiple times. That laugh was so disconcerting, it was like she couldn’t catch her breath and her arms would go flaying at her sides. It was endearing, and it helped me see she was not this marble sculpture I had originally categorized her as. Under her undeniable elegance there was the warmth of a person made of flesh and bone, and this person exhaled at least as much charm and charisma as the frozen image of this ancient marble.

It was 7 or so when she asked me if I wanted for us to go back to her apartment and fix a quick dinner. I accepted because, as stated by the philosophy I had seemed to adopt, why the fuck not?


End file.
